


Rodney's OCD

by Doctor_Watson_42



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, OCD, Rodeny Mckay has OCD, Rodney and John are best buddies, Rodney has a nervous breakdown and John comforts him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Watson_42/pseuds/Doctor_Watson_42
Summary: Rodney’s always been a bit of an oddball, but he’s been acting particularly weird lately, more withdrawn, even irrational, but Rodney can’t accept that he’s less than perfectly, absolutely, completely fine. After a nervous breakdown due to his OCD, Rodney and John Sheppard have a heart to heart.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Rodney's OCD

“Mckay, Zelenka wants you to check his equations for...Rodney…?”

John Sheppard’s voice echoed through Rodney’s laboratory, the colonel’s gaze casting from control crystals, the blinking lights of Earth and alien technology which had clearly been frankensteined by Rodney in some manner that hopefully wasn’t solar system destroying, and finally to the scientist himself, who was huddled in the corner hand washing station, frantically scrubbing his obviously clean hands.

“Everything alright, Rodney?” John asked cautiously.

The other man bristled, head snapping up from it’s hunched position over the sink. “W-what? Yes! Of course, why wouldn’t it be? Do me a favor Sheppard, and stop asking stupid questions.”

Rodney was just a little too defensive, and his words were even sharper than usual. It was enough to set off a little red alarm in John’s head. “I think they’re clean now,” he drawled, taking a tentative step towards Rodney.

“Clean?” Rodney asked, indignant, “Clean?!” He inhaled deeply for one of his trademark tirades, “Do you know the sorts of things that could be living on my hands? Hmm? What if I touched some wall that one of the Ancients touched? What if I got the Ancient plague? You know, even the Ancients couldn’t cure it John, so they turned into weird ascended energy squids. What would Atlantis do if I got it and died, huh? No, no, my work’s too important, colonel.”

“Rodney, it’s been ten thousand years.”

“Yeah, ten thousand years for it to mutate into some super-plague -- “

John sighed, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

There was a silent moment. There was the squeak of the facet turning off, the rustle of a towel, and Rodney stepped away from the sink, back to John, intent on facing the wall. Rodney exhaled, long and exasperated.

John’s voice broke the silence, “Rodney, buddy...you’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

No response. “No,” muttered the scientist.

“No...what?”

“You asked if I was okay. I’m giving you an answer.”

Rodney was shaking. He didn’t want anyone to see him this way. He didn’t want John to see him this way. “God, this is so humiliating.”

“Rodney, I’m not judging you,” there was a softness, a sincerity to the colonel’s voice, and worst of all, concern.

“I don’t need your pity,” Rodney spat. And then he paused, turning around slowly, head down. Quietly, reservedly, unexpectedly, he choked, “Sorry.”

John’s eyebrows knit further in concern. This really wasn’t like Rodney. The Rodney he knew was logical, rational, and above all, proud. Chest out, chin up, ready to argue with anyone and everyone (and probably win after a very long, overly detailed, insult filled verbal essay), never giving up or giving in, especially when there were lives on the line. Despite his outwardly cowardly appearance, Rodney actually cared about others -- he was just scared of getting hurt, which was perfectly reasonable for a scrawny scientist on Earth, but out of place in a galaxy full of life-sucking aliens and life or death battles. But even here, after all they’d been through, after all the times that Rodney could have run away but instead chose to do something insane, risking his own life to save others (all the while trembling in fear), John had never, ever seen Rodney like this. This Rodney was just so...so...broken.

Rodney sunk against the wall, hugging his knees, one fist pulling at his hair in distress. He was hyperventilating, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He felt so alone, so empty. A powerful wave of despair and defeat washed over him as he hugged his knees tighter, hoping that he’d become small enough that he’d pop out of existence. There was a shifting sound, and he looked over to see John sitting down beside him. His presence was comforting, like a warm cup of cocoa on a rainy day, and that made Rodney feel safer, somehow. His breathing calmed, he wiped the tears from his eyes and took a few shaky breathes.

“It’s not anything alien, if that’s what you’re thinking,” even in the midst of a nervous breakdown, Rodney was still Rodney.

“What’s going on, then?” asked the other man kindly, gone is his usual teasing drawl replaced by an edge of concern.

“I haven’t exactly been drugged either by some unscrupulous Genii spy or anything either,” continued Rodney. “It’s just that…”

John watched intently as the other man’s face fell into genuine shame. “There are sorts of things...” Rodney said, “Certain things that aren’t supposed to be wrong with you. It’s not like a broken leg, John. It’s a part of me, part of my brain. And I hate it.” The scientist looked up at the ceiling, staring off into the middle distance, “So what if the brilliant, once in a generation scientist is certifiably insane. Fine. It’s fine. It’s fine if you hate me now. I’m fine.”

“Rodney, of course I don’t hate you,” John seemed hurt by the insinuation, “I mean we all might get a little annoyed with you from time to time, but we’re your friends. I’m still your friend. No matter what.”

“Even after the whole blowing up a solar system incident?” Rodney asked quietly with the trace of a smile.

“Well,” John drawled in mock sternness, “I’m trusting you not to make the same mistake twice.”

Trust. John could trust Rodney. And he could trust John, or at least he hoped. Right?

“I wasn’t really sure what was wrong with me for a while. No one was, really.” Rodney laced his fingers together in front of him, focusing on his hands, “At first the symptoms were...all over the board. Small things that wouldn’t seem too unusual for a precious child. I could focus, I would obsess over everything from the order of carrots on a plate to memorizing every fact about the solar system to washing my hands a few too many times because my fellow children couldn’t be bothered to maintain basic hygiene. Sometimes Jeannie would let me know when I was being irrational, or calmed me down when things got out of hand, but mostly every time I acted strange people dismissed it as a side effect of my abnormally high intelligence. Everyone ignored it because I was a genius. A mind that only is born once or twice in a generation,” Rodney smiled a little, happy to have indulged his inflated ego, before he sighed and continued, “But then it got worse. So much worse. By the time I was ten I’d wash my hands until they’d bleed, or re-read the same passage in the college textbooks I poached from a nearby university until I passed out from exhaustion. Although in my defense, I always returned the books!” He let out a bitter chuckle, “By the time I was sixteen and working on my first PHD in Physics, I came near to a nervous breakdown. I say near, because no one ever saw it. I don’t know, late one night I was at my chalkboard in the University, busy working on my thesis when...something came over me. I just broke down crying. The whole night. It was like something just snapped inside me. Some craving I couldn’t sate, some agony I couldn’t expel tortured me until all I could do was collapse. And no one knew. Well, except me, of course. I kept it that way, because if anyone knew...I worried that they might take away my work, my very important, nobel worthy, universe changing work...and the only thing that keeps me sane. Well, as sane as I can be, anyway.”

Rodney placed and elbow on one of his knees and leant his chin on his fist, a carbon copy of The Thinker sculpture, looking wistfully out the darkened window at the dark water crashing at the sides of the technological marvel that was Atlantis, “I figured it out pretty soon after that. My brief stint with medicine not only fueled my hypochondria, but taught me a fair bit about psychiatry. After that, I knew...I knew that I had obsessive compulsive disorder, and it was only getting worse. Do you know what it’s like, John? Do know what it’s like to never stop thinking, to always need to do something even though you don’t want to, even though you know that it’s wrong or illogical. Being obsessed, all the time, all the time! It hurts. It really, really hurts. And when it hurts, it’s like torture, you’d say anything, do anything, just to make it stop.”

The scientist was on the verge of tears when he looked into the other man’s sympathetic eyes. “I just want it to stop, John.” Rodney lamented, desperation mixing with a resigned helplessness in his wide, fearful eyes. “I just want it to stop. But I can’t...I can’t afford to do anything, John. My work, it’s too important for...for...interruptions!”

John blinked, a little disturbed that his friend would disregard his health like this. “Rodney, we have a psychologist for a reason. Dr. Kate Heightmeyer. You remember that time she gave you and Cadman couples counseling -- ?”

“ -- When she and I shared my brain, yes, yes, ah, memories and all that. And then Cadman realized that she could take over my body and decided to ‘help’ with my date that evening. Just peachy. And...and if I go and tell someone that I have...this thing, then it becomes real...and I don’t want it to be real, but...why exactly would talking to someone ‘help’, exactly?”

And then it’s John’s turn to look away. His chin dropped to his collarbone, and a nervous smile flashed over his face. “She helped me.”

Rodney’s brows knit in confusion, almost concern. “Why?”

“We’re in another galaxy filled with life-sucking aliens and life and death situations on the daily. I got my job because the last guy got fed on by a Wraith and I shot him in a mercy kill. You don’t think that haunts me every morning, every sleepless night?” John shook his head, trying to shake away the guilt, “You don’t think that that’s enough to make a guy want to at least talk about it?”

“Sorry,” Rodney muttered, “I didn’t know.”

And then Rodney’s voice rose, “And I’m so sorry that I wasn’t good enough, or smart enough or strong enough to deal with this on my own. And I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Colonel.” His voice was bitter but the apologies were sincere as his face filled with color.

“Rodney,” John said, concern clear on his face as he inched closer and put a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder, “Good enough? You’re here, Atlantis, with the best and the brightest...and sometimes, yeah, even the bravest. Smart enough? Seriously? You’re always going on about what a genius you are -- “

“ -- Because I want everyone else to believe what I don’t,” Rodney interrupted in a small voice.

“Well, they’re right and you’re wrong,” John said, “You’ve been able to save all our collective butts time and time again. You solve every impossible problem you find. Well, except for when you blow it up, but...but don’t tell me for a second that you’re not smart enough.”

Rodney looked away with a whimper.

“And as for that last bit, Rodney,” John gave a small smile, “You can’t fly a ship in a straight line, win a fist fight, or fire a gun to save your life, but...but you’re the strongest person I know, Rodney. I know you’re scared. A lot. Maybe most of the time, but even so...you're ready to save anyone and everyone, even if it costs you your life. You’re brave despite being scared. And I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone braver in my life. Even when you’re scared, you’re braver than you know.”

“You really think so?” Rodney breathed hopefully, the corner of his mouth twitching in the faintest trace of a flattered smile before his face fell and he suddenly shrugged John’s hand off his shoulder, “Yeah, well, still doesn’t change the fact that there’s something wrong with me. I understand if you think less of me.”

“Rodney,” John’s stare was sharp and intent, burrowing past his eyes and into his soul with the utmost earnestness, “Just because there’s something wrong, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. You said, earlier, that it wasn’t like a broken leg. But it is. You can get help, get a cast for it and start to heal, or leave it alone and get even more hurt. People think that just because consciousness resides in the brain, that anything that happens there is them. But it’s so much more complex than that. There’s what we think, and then there’s what we feel. It’s important to separate the two, because what we feel, those stray, passing thoughts -- that’s not us. There’s no shame in it, no loss of pride in asking for help. You are not those thoughts, Rodney. You don’t succeed because of them, you aspire to more in spite of them.”

Rodney let that sink in, meeting John’s gaze, thinking it over. He nodded, wiping watery eyes with his blue sleeve.

“Need a hug?” asked John. And it dawned on Rodney, as he sat against the wall hugging his knees so tightly to his chest, that he really wasn’t alone. “Yes,” he managed to choke out through tears, although no longer crying in defeat and now weeping in something more akin to a bittersweet epiphany.

John hugged him, patted him on the back whispering quietly, “Everything’s going to be okay, Rodney.”

And then the pair sat in a comfortable silence for what could have been an eternity. Rodney sniffed a little, turning to John with a grateful half smile, “John?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little drabble I decided to write for no apparent reason, other than my immense love of Rodney McKay as a character. Rodney McKay is probably one of the best characters ever. He's wonderful because he's flawed, and a geek, so he's one of us. Personally, I couldn't help but see some of Rodney's quirks as OCD, but that's just my personal head-cannon. What with the hypochondria, and the constant worrying, it seemed a little familiar. Thanks for reading, and please comment if you liked!


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